


we've got unfinished business

by suspendrs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, Halloween, M/M, Spooky, but literally not halloween at all, but not really that spooky, but this fic is meant for halloween time, honestly lmk, idek, or my attempt at crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:15:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendrs/pseuds/suspendrs
Summary: “Maybe we have a ghost,” Harry suggests, frowning when Louis laughs. “Lots of people have them, you know.”

  “Harry, ghosts aren’t real,” Louis snorts, shaking his head as he makes his way back to the kitchen. Harry pouts for a moment, until he hears Louis shriek on the other side of the door.
 Or, there’s a ghost in Harry and Louis’s apartment that seemingly just wants them to date.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to do something for Halloween this year because Halloween is great fun but i, admittedly, am a baby, and this is about as spooky as i could get. i’m also wanted it to be a bit silly but i’m pretty bad at silly, so let me know how i did.
> 
> title is from Running From Lions by All Time Low

London is quite big.

It’s not like they didn’t know that before moving here, but the window in the kitchen of their twelfth floor flat gives a wide panoramic view of the skyline, and really, it’s quite big.

What’s bigger than London is England as a whole, which they’ve already conquered. Next comes the rest of Europe, so they’re told, and after that, the world. Harry can’t imagine it’ll actually happen for them; they did come in bloody _third_ on the X-Factor after all, and no one even knows them outside of the country.

But if America doesn’t happen, even if the rest of Europe doesn’t happen, Harry thinks it’ll be okay. He’s already experienced more than he ever thought was possible, more than he ever thought he was capable of, and he’s only just barely 17.

“Hazza,” Louis mutters, shuffling up behind him and pressing his sweaty face into the back of his neck. The curls there tickle his nose, but Harry knows from experience that Louis doesn’t mind it. “If you don’t start helping me unpack, I’m kicking you out.”

Harry laughs softly, pulling his eyes away from the view and turning around so Louis is forced to support his own weight to look at him. “You wouldn’t,” he challenges, narrowing his eyes at Louis’s tired pair.

“Don’t test me, Styles,” Louis says, puffing his chest out and crowding into Harry’s space a bit. Harry giggles and knees his crotch gently, laughing when Louis collapses to the ground dramatically.

“I’m hurt!” He shrieks, rolling around with his hands cupped over his crotch. “I’m wounded, I’m done for!”

“Louis,” Harry laughs, nearly breathless with amusement. “Shush, get up.”

Louis accepts the hand Harry extends, smiling at the grin on Harry’s face. “I’m serious, though,” he says, grabbing Harry by the wrist to drag him to the living room, which is still stacked with loaded boxes. “The only room that isn’t nearly finished is yours, and I’m not letting you kip with me tonight,” he warns.

Harry pouts, grabbing at Louis’s hand. “But you always let me kip with you in the X-Factor house,” he complains, but it’s not serious. Louis rolls his eyes and shoves him gently, and Harry grins.

He picks up a stack of three boxes with his own name on them, trekking down the wide hall to his room. They both have their own ensuite, though only Louis’s has a bathtub, because of the rules of seniority that Harry is pretty sure are made up.

His bedframe and mattress are already set up, which is nice. Harry sets his boxes down on the full sized bed and walks over to the walk in closet at the other end of the room, setting about hanging his clothes up. It’s only when he turns around to grab the next box that he finds Louis lounging on his unmade bed, watching him.

“Jesus!” Harry gasps, startling back. “I signed up to live with my friend, not a fucking ghost,” he scolds.

“Sorry,” Louis giggles, sitting up. “I was just resting, thought I’d come and annoy you,” he says.

“Go rest somewhere else,” Harry swats at him, shooing him off the bed as he pulls out his new bed sheets. “Unless you wanna help me make my bed.”

Louis is gone in a flash, the door swinging shut behind him. Harry rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, always smiling when it comes to Louis.

He gets his bed made with very few issues, and already the room feels a bit more homey. He has a whole other box full of pictures and things to hang on the walls and he needs to assemble the bedside tables he bought to bring here, but it’s starting to get late.

He wanders down the hall to find Louis in the living room, fiddling with the new telly. He really hopes Louis will be able to figure out how to set up the cable, because they’re avid movie watchers, and a nonfunctioning telly just won’t do.

“Where the fuck does this go,” Louis grumbles, holding up a thick black wire. Harry keeps his distance, backing toward the kitchen.

“How about you set that up and I’ll make some dinner, and then we can call it a night and watch a movie?” He suggest. Louis just turns to glare at him, which Harry takes as a yes.

He sets about unpacking the dishes and silverware in the kitchen, setting a pot of water on the stove to boil. He manages to get all of the plates put away before the water begins to boil, and he dumps in a box of spaghetti.

Louis is done with the telly by the time dinner is ready, and Harry brings two bowls of spaghetti and butter to the couch. Louis is just picking out a movie when Harry settles down, handing him over his bowl. 

“What do you want to watch?” Louis asks, flicking through the movie channels.

“Oh! Bridesmaids!” Harry says, voice muffled by the food in his mouth.

“We’ve watched that movie a hundred times,” Louis rolls his eyes.

“It’s good,” Harry argues, digging his toes against Louis’s thigh. “And it’s only just started, turn it on!”

Louis huffs and presses a button on the remote, settling back into the couch with his food when the movie flickers on. Harry wriggles happily, stuffing his face with another mouthful.

They don’t get through much of the film before it cuts out, an annoying soap ad blaring through the speakers. Harry whines and kicks at Louis, pouting.

“Turn it back on, you wanker,” he complains.

“I didn’t change it!” Louis says, looking for the remote. “You must have sat on the remote, fat arse.”

“If anyone here is a fat arse, it’s you,” Harry retorts, but he still gets up to check under his bum. “I didn’t sit on it, where is it?”

Louis pulls the cushions off the couch, checking beneath them. Harry frowns and laps around the coffee table, searching the floor for the missing remote. It takes them nearly fifteen minutes before Harry spots it, sitting right on the arm of the couch.

“It’s there, you idiot!” Harry laughs, pointing it out to Louis. Louis looks bewildered, snatching it up.

“How did it get there? It definitely wasn’t there before!” He says.

“Whatever,” Harry chuckles, putting the couch cushions back in place and sitting back down. Louis flips the movie back on, but only a moment later the channel switches again.

“Louis!”

“I didn’t do it!” Louis shrieks, throwing the remote to Harry. “I swear!”

Harry glares at him briefly and places the remote down beside himself, out of Louis’s reach. It only takes a few seconds before the channel switches yet again, and Louis snorts. “See?”

“What the hell,” Harry mutters, getting up to peek behind the telly. “Did you set it up wrong?”

“No, I didn’t bloody set it up wrong,” Louis barks, getting up as well. “I followed the directions perfectly, everything’s right!”

Harry rolls his eyes, jiggling some cords and checking the plugs. “That one seemed a bit loose,” he lies, “maybe it’ll work now.”

They resume their places on the couch, falling quiet as the movie plays. Harry counts ten seconds before the channel switches again, and he groans.

“What the fuck?” Louis mutters, sitting up with his eyes glued to the tv. The channels are switching rapidly now, from one to the next, more quickly than anyone could do it manually with the remote.

After a moment the telly screeches, and both boys cover their ears against the noise. The screen erupts in static a few seconds later, and no matter which buttons Louis presses, it won’t stop.

Harry gets up and pulls the plug, plunging the living room into silence. It’s quite dark, suddenly, but Harry can still see Louis’s wide eyes in the dark.

“Well, so much for that,” Harry sighs, dropping the cord. “Wanna go watch Netflix in my bed?”

Louis sighs and nods, placing the remote gingerly on the coffee table and leading the way to Harry’s room. Harry grabs his laptop while Louis curls up under the sheets, and they cuddle up while they wait for the screen to load.

They shared beds a lot back in the X-Factor house, on nights they were both too anxious to sleep alone. The other boys didn’t quite get them like they got each other, they still really don’t, but that’s okay. They have each other, at least for now.

Louis ends up falling asleep with his head on Harry’s shoulder a quarter of the way through the next movie, and Harry smiles as he puts his laptop away. He should kick him out; after all, Louis said he wouldn’t let Harry sleep with him, Harry should kick him out just to spite him. In the end, though, he just pulls him a bit closer, dozing off as well.

-

He wakes up to a strange sound coming from the kitchen. Louis is still snoring into his neck, so Harry pushes him off gingerly and gets up to investigate for himself.

The whistling noise seems to be growing in volume as Harry approaches the kitchen, and when he pushes the door open, the room is foggy with steam. Harry rushes to the kettle that somehow got on the stove, grabbing an oven mit to push it off the burner.

He coughs as the steam dies down, staring in confusion at the stove. The burner isn’t even on.

He reaches out to grab the kettle again, inspecting it as he brings it over to the sink. As he places it down a bit of water splashes out of the spout, the boiling liquid splashing over Harry’s forearm.

“Fuck!” Harry screams, dropping the kettle quickly. Some more water splashes out and burns his bare stomach, and Harry shrieks as he turns on the cold tap to try and relieve the burning.

Louis comes stumbling into the kitchen hardly a second later, rushing over to where Harry is whimpering at the sink.

“What happened?” He asks quickly, eyes still bleary with sleep.

“The kettle,” Harry mutters, as Louis tries to get a look at his burns. “Did you leave it on last night?”

“No?” Louis frowns, glancing down at the kettle in the sink. “I didn’t touch it.”

“Did you sleep walk, then? It was boiling over when I found it, like it’d been on for hours,” he explains.

“Really?” Louis hums, pressing a cold, wet paper towel over the burn on Harry’s arm and leaving him to hold it as he goes to inspect the stove. “The burner isn’t even warm.”

“Well, the kettle sure is,” Harry grumbles, looking down at his stomach. His skin is red where the water hit him, and burns when he touches the cold towel to it. He hisses, and Louis rushes back over.

“C’mon, let’s lay you down on the couch,” Louis says, leading him to the living room, “and I’ll check the first aid kit for any burn cream.”

Harry nods, settling down on his back on the couch. It doesn’t make any sense that the kettle was boiling without the stove even on, but he doesn’t get to think about it long before Louis comes back and straddles his thighs.

“Okay, this might sting,” he says, squeezing some of the cream out onto his finger. Harry braces himself for the pain, but still yelps just a bit when Louis, as gently as he can, spreads the cream over the burnt skin.

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis winces, covering the area in a thin layer of cream. “Okay, there’s that. How’s your arm?”

Harry presents the burnt patch on his forearm, biting into the thumb on his other hand while Louis takes care of that burn as well. Louis presses a careful kiss next to the burn when he’s finished, smiling when Harry smiles.

“Thanks, mum,” Harry hums, patting Louis’s hip as the older boy climbs off. 

Louis laughs, heading back to the kitchen, presumably to clean up the mess of water Harry sloshed about. He comes back a moment later with the kettle and a frown, looking at Harry.

“It’s completely cooled,” he says suspiciously, bringing it to the couch for Harry to have a feel. “How the hell was this boiling out of control five minutes ago?”

“Maybe we have a ghost,” Harry suggests, frowning when Louis laughs. “Lots of people have them, you know.”

“Harry, ghosts aren’t real,” Louis snorts, shaking his head as he makes his way back to the kitchen. Harry pouts for a moment, until he hears Louis shriek on the other side of the door.

He gets up and rushes in, finding Louis blowing on his finger and pouting. “The tap came out hot when I turned it on,” he explains, holding his finger out for Harry to see. 

Harry grins and takes his hand, pressing a chaste kiss to the slightly reddened skin, like Louis had done for his burn. “Better?”

Louis rolls his eyes, but grins at him. “Better.”

-

They’re terribly busy with work for the next few days, getting the final touches done for their debut album. Harry is tired to the bone when they get home on Thursday night, with the promise of getting up tomorrow and doing it all over again. They’re all stressed, all five of them, and as much fun as they’re having, they all just want the album to be done already. It’s so much work, recording things over and over all day, and Harry loves it, but he really just wants to finish it.

They stopped for Chinese on the way home, just the two of them, because Harry’s too tired to cook and Louis doesn’t quite trust himself in the kitchen yet. 

Harry flicks the lights on as they walk in, yawning as he drops onto the couch, taking up as much room as possible. Louis plops down on the floor in front of the couch, leaning his head back against Harry’s thigh as he turns on the telly.

Harry eats lazily, dropping the noodles into his mouth one by one. He isn’t really that hungry, but Louis insisted they get food.

He’s just about to doze off when the lights flicker, startling him back to consciousness. He thinks nothing of it, though, until it happens again, the telly turning off and on with the lights.

“What the fuck,” Louis moans, digging the back of his head into Harry’s thigh. “Why can we never have a normal day in this flat?”

“It’s a ghost, I’m telling you,” Harry insists, reaching down to tug at Louis’s hair. Just then the lights flicker dramatically, and fear flashes for only a moment in Louis’s eyes.

“Harry, there’s no such thing as fucking _ghosts_ ,” he says, getting up to throw out their empty food containers, because he knows Harry will yell at him later if he doesn’t. “Don’t be so thick, it’s just a coincidence.”

The lights go again as Louis’s making his way back to the couch, and he quickens his pace a little. He sits down hard on Harry’s hip and Harry grunts, but doesn’t push him away.

“Why are you nervous, then?” Harry teases, digging his fingers into Louis’s side. Louis squirms out of reach, ending up back on the floor.

“I’m not nervous,” he says, flicking through the channels on the telly. He’s nervous.

“You’re nervous,” Harry tells him.

“Yeah, because you’re going around telling fucking ghost stories!” Louis huffs, reaching behind himself to pinch Harry’s leg. “Shut up.”

“Louis’s afraid of ghosts,” he sings, ruffling Louis’s hair. “Louis’s afraid of-”

Louis smacks him in the balls, cutting him off rather quickly. Harry cries out and the lights go off altogether, plunging the room into darkness.

“You pissed off the ghost,” Harry whispers. Louis tackles him.

-

It turns out they’re the only flat in the building that lost power. They decide to sleep in the living room, where they’ve set up about a dozen candles. There’s no reason, really, other than that Louis’s spooked and Harry kind of maybe doesn’t want to sleep alone in his own room tonight either.

They spread both of their duvets out on the floor, piling up the blankets and pillows into little nests. They’ll probably end up cuddling at some point during the night, as they usually do when they sleep in the same vicinity. They gravitate toward each other, for some reason. They don’t like to look into it.

They settle down into their blanket nests and chat for a while, until neither of them can keep their eyes open. Louis falls asleep first, and Harry watches him for a bit, until finally he drifts off as well.

The lights are back on when they wake up, which makes for a much brighter morning than is appreciated. Harry’s on his stomach and Louis’s face is smushed into his shoulder blade, but it’s comfortable, and Harry forgets all about the ghost.

-

They have Sunday free, which is a beautiful thing.

They have some grocery shopping to get done and Louis wants to stop somewhere to buy some new headphones, but it’s a relatively lazy day. Harry’s already showered and dressed and Louis’s only just hopped in the shower, but that’s typical.

 _Bananas, tomatoes, cereal for Louis_ , Harry looks over his list, scribbling things down as he wanders around the kitchen. The pantry is somehow empty, even though they just went shopping last week. Harry has no idea where everything goes.

Suddenly there’s a loud crash from the other end of the flat, and Louis screams. Harry’s blood runs cold and before he even knows what’s happening, he’s running to Louis’s bedroom.

Louis is just darting out of the bathroom when Harry gets there, wrapped in a towel and shaking. His hair’s all soapy and his eyes are squeezed shut, his teeth chattering.

“What happened?” Harry coos, as Louis blindly tucks himself into his arms.

“Shower went cold all of a sudden,” Louis explains, whimpering angrily. “Shampoo in me eye.”

Harry pouts, rubbing his back a bit to warm him up. “Come to the kitchen, I’ll rinse your hair for you.”

Harry leads him down the hall with an arm around his shaking shoulders, placing him in front of the sink. “Bend,” he says quietly, and Louis holds his towel a little tighter as he bends at the waist to put his head in the sink.

He makes soft little noises while Harry rinses the shampoo out of his hair, the warm tap water probably feeling nice after the sudden iciness of his shower. They should probably get their landlord to check that out.

“There,” Harry hums, straightening Louis up once his hair is rinsed. “All clean.”

“Thank you, Hazza,” Louis mumbles, tucking himself into his arms again. “M’cold.”

“You’re also naked,” Harry reminds him, but he hugs him close anyway. “Why don’t you go get dressed, and I’ll give you a cuddle before we go shopping if you’re still cold,” he suggests.

“Do I have to come food shopping?” Louis whines, pulling out of Harry’s arms and looking up at him. His eyes are a bit red from the shampoo, his lips blue.

“Yes,” Harry insists, pinching his arm. “Unless you want to stay home with the ghost?”

Louis goes rigid for half a second, and then glares. “Bitch,” he mutters, turning away and shuffling back to his room.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Harry calls after him childishly, smiling to himself as he picks up his list from where he dropped it on the floor and gets back to work checking the pantry.

Louis shuffles back to the kitchen after a minute in joggers and a zip up hoodie, complete with a pair of Harry’s thick wool socks on his feet. “Cuddle, now,” he demands, pressing himself against Harry’s warm back.

“Needy,” Harry mutters, but he’s smiling, turning around to wrap Louis in his arms. He’s still cold to the touch, which makes Harry’s heart pang a bit in sympathy.

“Cold,” Louis argues, pressing his chilly nose into Harry’s neck.

“Sooner we get to the store,” Harry says, rubbing his back, “sooner we can come home and I can make you some warm chocolate chip cookies?” he smiles.

Louis seems to consider for a moment, and then sighs. “Do I have to wear shoes?”

“Yes, Louis, you have to wear shoes to the grocery store.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

-

It takes about another week’s worth of spooky happenings before Louis finally admits that they might have a ghost.

The lights work completely of their own accord now, as does the shower. The telly allows for one movie or program at a time before it switches itself or just shuts off completely, and they’ve learned not to question it. It hasn’t been malicious again after the incident with the kettle, and even though it’s a bit unsettling at times, there’s nothing they can do about it.

It’s been a busy day of promo and they don’t get home until around midnight, and of course, the lights don’t want to come on when they come in. Louis just trudges silently down the dark hall to his bedroom, so Harry follows his lead, using the flashlight on his phone to illuminate the room just enough to strip out of his clothes and fall into bed. 

He’s so fucking exhausted, and he knows Louis is too. As they get more famous, the rules get tighter, and none of them are faring well with it. They have appearances to keep up, now more than ever, strict roles to play and moulds to fit.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he startles awake to the sound of screaming down the hall. He’s too terrified to do anything but freeze, until Louis’s screams get louder and more frantic. He finally pulls himself together and sits upright in bed just as Louis bursts through his door, looking debauched and wild.

“It got me, it got me, it got me,” he’s whimpering, throwing himself into Harry’s bed. Harry stares in horror as his door slowly swings shut on its own, Louis’s body trembling in his arms.

“What do you mean it got you?” Harry asks, pulling Louis away from where he’s trying to burrow into his neck, trying to look at his face.

“I was asleep and it screamed in my ear,” he explains, voice trembling like he’s going to cry. “And I hid under my covers and it pushed me out of bed.”

Harry frowns, tugging him close again. “Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?” He asks cautiously.

“No it wasn’t a dream,” Louis bites, reluctantly allowing Harry to lay him down and pull the covers up over them. “It felt like there was a person in the room with me, but I couldn’t see them,” he whispers.

Harry just pulls him a bit closer, rubbing his back until he stops shaking. “You sleeping in here, then?”

“Don’t make me go back there,” Louis breathes.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Harry assures, settling in to go back to sleep. His arm is going to go dead by morning with the way Louis is laying on it and they’re both in just pants, but it feels strangely nice to sleep cuddled up like this. 

It’s startling sometimes, how comfortable he is around Louis. He’s never felt like this before, even with people he thought he was into. Something about Louis just puts him at ease, makes him feel like half of a whole.

Louis is his best mate, though, and that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything that they’re both into boys; they’ve discussed it, and they want what’s best for the band. They’ve agreed to not catch feelings for each other, but with the way Louis snores quietly into the hollow of Harry’s neck, well. They might have more problems than just a ghost.

-

The ghost is silent for two days. The lights work fine, the shower doesn’t act up, and they find that the ghost’s absence is almost as unsettling as it’s presence.

Harry’s late night feelings have seemed to dissipate, thankfully. In retrospect, Harry doesn’t think his feelings were all that serious, anyway. It was late and he was tired, and Louis was vulnerable. It didn’t mean anything.

They have some time off today, which is rare, but very much appreciated. They’ve spent most of the day lounging on the sofa, watching movies now that they have free control of their own telly. It seems that the ghost is giving them some time off as well, and it’s quite nice.

They had their third takeaway dinner in a week tonight, which is a habit that Harry absolutely plans to put an end to, but even he must admit that the comfort food is welcome. They’re so stressed, all five of them, and indulging in a nice, greasy pizza now and then seems okay. 

Louis is sporting quite the food baby, rubbing his tummy lazily where he’s laying on the sofa, head pillowed on Harry’s thigh. Harry’s feeling just as stuffed, slouched to the side to lean against the armrest.

“Think I’m gonna call it a night,” Harry mutters, glancing down at Louis. It’s early still, but he could use the extra few hours.

“You can’t go,” Louis whines, clawing at him. “I need you, you’re my pillow.”

Harry chuckles and stands up, stuffing a throw pillow under Louis’s head. “Better?” 

Louis huffs, whipping the pillow at Harry as he walks away. “Looks like I’m going to bed as well, then,” he sighs.

“Night,” Harry grins, blowing him a dramatic kiss before slipping into his room.

He strips down quickly, flicking off the lights and falling into bed. He spends a few minutes scrolling through Twitter on his phone, liking a few tweets and following a few fans, before he finally puts it away and rolls over. It’s a bit chilly in his room tonight so he cocoons himself in his duvet, drifting off slowly.

It seems he’s been asleep for no time at all when he’s woken up again, a slight breeze tickling the curls around his ear. He pulls his duvet up a little higher and nuzzles into his pillow, but the back of his neck prickles for no reason and sends chills down his spine.

He flips over in bed, half expecting to see Louis behind him, fucking with him. It’s a cruel joke, but Harry wouldn’t put it past him. He finds nothing, though, as he peers into the dark, and then somebody whispers right into his ear.

He jumps so hard he hits his head on his headboard, sitting up and flipping back around. Again, there’s nobody there, and Harry’s heart picks up almost painfully. He doesn’t want to run to Louis, not yet, but then there’s an ear piercing scream from directly beside him and he flees.

He screams as he falls out of bed, stumbling for the door. He thinks he’s screaming for Louis, but he can’t really tell, can’t really get his feet to cooperate.

He trips over nothing as soon as he leaves his room, wiping out quite hard in the hallway. The screaming is following him as he scrambles back to his feet, sprinting for Louis’s door.

Louis is up when Harry slams the door behind himself, standing beside the bed looking panicked. Harry is seconds from tears as he tackles him backwards onto the bed, trying to bury his face in Louis’s neck.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Louis soothes, but he sounds terrified as well. “I’ve got you.”

“It was- it- Lou,” Harry sobs, but Louis just tugs him under the covers.

“Shh, I know,” Louis assures. They fall silent for a while, listening for anything that might be coming for them, but after a while it seems the ghost is done for the night, and Harry’s heart rate returns to normal.

“I want to move,” Harry mutters, his face still smushed into Louis’s sleep shirt. “I don’t like it here.”

Louis chuckles quietly, but it sounds strained. “We can’t move, Hazza, we have a year on the lease.”

Harry sighs, because he knows Louis is right. They have to do something about this ghost, though.

-

They don’t do anything about the ghost. They work out little ways to avoid it, though, and for the most part, it leaves them alone.

It hardly ever causes trouble if they’re together in the same room, which is why they’ve taken up permanent residence in Harry’s bedroom. Louis only ever uses his room anymore to shower and to change, and other than that, they hardly leave each other’s side. 

The telly still acts up most of the time and the lights still work on their own schedule, but it’s manageable. They’ve looked into getting the flat exercised, but their management still doesn’t want attention to be brought to the fact that they're living together, especially since the relationship rumors have started, so that’s out of the question.

The longer it goes on, though, the more Louis runs to him when the lights flicker and the more Harry counts the seconds until Louis gets out of the shower, things get more confusing. They’ve always been close, yes, but their closeness seems to be changing in its nature, and Harry doesn’t even know if Louis realizes it too.

It’s so natural, the way Louis cuddles up behind him in bed at night, the way they wake up tangled together, the way they eat every meal together and plan their schedules around one another’s. He doesn’t want anything to change, but he also thinks he wouldn’t mind it meaning more. Sometimes, alarmingly, he catches himself watching Louis and thinking about him in more than a friendly way, thinks about kissing him and touching him more than he already does. Louis doesn’t seem to be any different though, doesn’t seem to be picking up on it, and it’s starting to get to Harry’s head.

He also doesn’t want to say anything, because they have a good thing going, and he doesn’t want to mess it up. If he makes things awkward between them now, things are going to suck, because there’s still nearly a year left in their lease and if they grow apart, the ghost will start torturing them again. Harry isn’t sure he could handle that, any of it, and he doesn’t even want to think about it.

“Hazza!” Louis greets, dropping down on the sofa beside him. Harry startles, glancing up at him. “Alright?” Louis asks, smirking. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Very funny,” Harry deadpans, accepting the soda Louis hands over. “Was just thinking.”

“‘Bout what?” Louis hums, cuddling right up and placing the bowl of popcorn in Harry’s lap, reaching for a handful immediately. Harry does his best not to tense up, picking at the popcorn once Louis pulls his hand away.

“Nothing,” he lies, picking up the remote. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Think they’re playing-” Louis cuts off when the lights go out, the telly going with them. “Seriously?” He groans, dropping his head back against Harry’s shoulder. “Can we just have one night?”

“Shh, don’t piss it off,” Harry mutters, nudging Louis’s head. “Stay here, I’ll go get my laptop and we can watch Netflix.”

Louis nods and lets him up, popping another piece of popcorn in his mouth. Harry just about runs to his room and back, and Louis welcomes him back to the couch with open arms.

They switch positions a bit, Louis’s arm wrapping around Harry’s shoulders while Harry balances his laptop on his lap. Louis holds the popcorn this time, while Harry scrolls slowly through the movies on Netflix.

He’s about to suggest that they just give up and call it an early night when there’s a loud, echoing crash from the kitchen. Louis jumps so hard he nearly dumps the popcorn over, and Harry stares in horror at the closed kitchen door.

“What the hell do you think that was?” He whispers, pressing a little closer to Louis.

“The cat?” Louis suggests feebly.

“We don’t have a cat,” Harry frowns.

“Can we pretend we do?” Louis squeaks.

“C’mon,” Harry breathes, putting his laptop down on the couch and pulling Louis up. Louis tries to shy away but Harry holds him tight by the wrist, pulling him along to the kitchen.

He pushes the door open with his foot, his grip tightening on Louis’s wrist as he pulls him through the doorway. Louis whimpers quietly behind him but Harry doesn’t falter, glancing around the kitchen.

There’s nothing immediately wrong, nothing on the floor like how the crash sounded. It’s too dark to see very well but Harry can’t spot a single thing out of place, and he frowns as he turns around to look at Louis.

“Maybe it was next door?” He suggests, but before the words are even out of his mouth there’s another crash, this time from the living room. Harry shoves back through the door quickly, leaving Louis to scurry along frantically behind him, and surveys the room.

The popcorn bowl is tipped over on the floor, popcorn scattered all over the carpet. Louis curls a fist into the back of Harry’s t-shirt and Harry steps back into him, suddenly overcome with fear. They left the bowl on the coffee table, nowhere near the edge. There’s no way it could have fallen on its own.

“Let’s go to bed,” Louis pleads, tugging at Harry’s shirt. “Please, let’s go to bed? It doesn’t usually do anything while we’re sleeping,” he reasons.

“Yeah, bed,” Harry mutters, keeping his eye on the popcorn as he sidesteps toward the hallway. Louis picks up the pace, all but dragging him by the back of his shirt all the way to his room.

They change in silence by the light of Louis’s phone, Harry stripping down to his briefs while Louis pulls on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. The last thing on Harry’s mind when he climbs into bed is Louis’s bare skin pressed against his own.

It takes both of them a while to fall asleep. Harry’s stomach is twisting with nerves and Louis is tense where he’s curled up behind him, his knee pressing into the back of Harry’s thigh. Harry rolls over to face him when the clock on his bedside table strikes midnight, and finds Louis’s eyes open and watching him.

He thinks again about kissing him, just leaning in and finally seeing what it’s like. Louis looks so soft like this, tucked up in bed with his hair falling across his forehead. All Harry would have to do is lean forward and they’d be kissing, and maybe Louis would even kiss him back.

He pushes the idea out of his head, though, because this just isn’t the time. No matter what he’s feeling, their most pressing issue is the ghost, and they need to figure that out before anything else can happen. 

Just as he’s about to roll over again there’s a huge smash at the end of the bed. Louis screams and Harry covers his face, and suddenly they’re a lot closer than they were before.

“What do you want?” Louis shouts, wrapping his arms around Harry and hiding his face in his hair. “What the _fuck_ do you want from us?”

One of the picture frames on Harry’s wall goes flying, smashing against the opposite wall. Harry whimpers and curls up tighter into Louis’s arms, feeling Louis’s body begin to shake. Another picture frame goes flying, and then another, until suddenly it seems like everything in Harry’s room is just being tossed around.

Louis pulls the covers up over their heads to shield them from the glass and splinters, but within a second the duvet is ripped right off of them. They scream in unison, and Louis sits up.

“C’mon, we have to get out of here,” he says, reaching blindly for Harry’s hand. Harry lets him take it and they jump out of bed, staying low as they go for the door.

Louis reaches for the handle quickly, but it doesn’t turn. He swears desperately under his breath and throws himself at the door, but it seems to be locked from the outside.

“Louis,” Harry whimpers, grabbing at his arm. “Louis!”

“We’re locked in,” Louis says shakily, turning to look at him. “Shit.”

One of Harry’s mugs shatters against the door directly above their heads, and they both shriek as they dive back toward the bed. Louis pulls Harry down to the floor beside the bed and they huddle close, protecting each other from the shit storm going on around them.

Harry can feel anxiety rising in his throat, his heart beating out of control. He grips Louis’s arm hard enough to leave bruises and tries to breathe, but the tears are coming and he’s helpless to stop them.

“Harry, breathe,” Louis tells him, tugging him a little closer. 

“I can’t,” Harry gasps, pressing his face into Louis’s neck while the first few tears slip out. “It’s going to kill us.”

“No,” Louis assures, even as the lamp from Harry’s bedside table smashes on the floor right in front of them. “It’s gonna be fine, we just have to wait it out.”

“We’re locked in!” Harry cries, digging his nails into Louis’s arm, half in terror and half in frustration. “We’re going to die!”

“Harry,” Louis says, but Harry can’t hear him through the cotton in his head. Something else smashes behind him and Harry screams, shaking his head frantically when Louis holds his face in an attempt to meet his eyes.

He’s talking, Harry can see his mouth moving but he can’t hear him, it’s like they’re underwater and Harry can’t even breathe. He chokes a little and Louis’s jaw clenches, like he’s considering something.

Another picture frame smashes against the wall opposite them and Harry’s entire body clenches in panic. He’s had panic attacks before, but nothing like this, not when the threat of death is so real.

He can feel himself starting to heave and he squeezes his eyes shut, using every ounce of strength he has to press closer to Louis. Louis’s yelling at the ghost, Harry thinks, but he still can’t make out the words, and then something happens.

Soft, warm lips press firmly against his own, and everything in the room comes to a screeching halt. It takes Harry a moment to come to his senses before he gains the presence of mind to kiss back, though Louis mostly leads it. He has to pull away to breathe after a moment, which gets easier to do with every breath.

“It stopped,” Louis whispers, and when Harry opens his eyes, Louis’s are hardly a centimeter away. “It’s over, it stopped,” he says.

Harry breaks his eyes away from Louis’s and glances around the room, inspecting the damage. There is no damage, though, everything is as neat and orderly as it was when they went to bed, like nothing even happened.

He turns back to Louis to find him smiling, looking at Harry’s lips. Harry has no idea what’s going on or why but before he can say anything he finds himself pressing his lips to Louis’s again, the kiss bruising this time.

They kiss until Harry’s heartbeat has returned to normal, until they’re both loose and sleepy and calm. The bed sheets are warm like they never left them when Louis helps him back into bed, and Harry cuddles up with his head pillowed on Louis’s soft chest.

“Is that what it wanted?” Harry wonders aloud, eyes sweeping around the room again. 

“For us to stop fucking around and finally get together?” Louis chuckles, playing with Harry’s hair. “Maybe. I know it’s what I wanted.”

Harry’s mind blanks for a moment, and he turns to look up at Louis. “What?”

“What?” Louis says immediately, his face pinking in the dark. “Um-”

“You wanted us to get together?” Harry asks, a small smile spreading over his face. “Since when?”

“Always,” Louis admits quietly. “Since I met you.”

Harry feels like he could fly, like if Louis wasn’t holding him so tight he might just float away. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Louis says, laughing nervously. “Say you feel the same? Please?”

Harry opts not to answer him, instead surging up to kiss him hard. “I feel the same,” he grins, pecking his lips one, two, three times. “I’ve been kind of in love with you since the ghost started haunting us.”

“Oh my god,” Louis laughs, rolling over on top of Harry and grinning down at him. “So, what now?”

“Happily ever after, I hope?” Harry hums, wrapping his arms around Louis’s waist. “Assuming the ghost was just trying to get us together?”

“I like happily ever after,” Louis smiles, eyes on Harry’s lips. 

“I like _you_ ,” Harry says, pursing his lips for a kiss.

“Thought you were kind of in love with me?” Louis teases, kissing him chastely.

“That too,” Harry giggles.

They don’t end up sleeping much, but it’s okay. When they get up in the morning, the lights actually work, and the telly lets them watch more than one program. They still don’t know exactly what the ghost wanted or where it went, but it’s definitely gone, and they couldn’t be happier with what it left them with.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> if you liked the fic, you can reblog it [here](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/post/151262027547/fukcinglouis-weve-got-unfinished-business-by), or you can [buy me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/alyvia) :)
> 
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